


The Sacrifices I Hate to Make

by xStormyNightsx



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Cults, Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Kidnapping, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xStormyNightsx/pseuds/xStormyNightsx
Summary: I came back to my hometown to help my sister, to save her because that's what family does, right?Little did I know I'd be the one in need of saving. Who knew today's the day I was gonna get kidnapped by a cult and sacrificed to God-Knows-what. It's not human, whatever it is, whatever's after me. I wish it would stop acting like it's human. There's no way out of this, I'm marked now, his prey, his sacrificial lamb. Someone please point out the nearest exit.-A Dark EJ x Reader(Rated M for violence, language and suggestive themes)
Relationships: Eyeless Jack/Original Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 53





	1. Welcome Home, Don't Mind the Cults

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's 2020 and the quarantines hit most of us hard no doubt. So why not spend our time locked up in home reading creepy pasta fanfic? I haven't written for this fandom (or any fandom) in ages, but honestly, nothing feels cozier than to curl up and write a romantic horror.  
> I hope you all enjoy!

I used to love this little town, it always smelt like rain, it was always foggy and cool, the type of place you wanna come back to again and again. Some people crave the heat, the beach, the buzzing cityscapes, but I crave the spicy smelling pine forests of Glendale. So many happy memories.

What would happen to them now? Would they be replaced with all these horrible memories?

Instead of racing down the woods as a child, would I now remember the sensation of being dragged down those very woods? Instead of the noise of crinkling leaves under my boots, would I now remember the way the dirt lodged itself in my nails as I tried to find purchase in the ground, as I tried to claw my way away as these people that had grabbed me? Instead of hearing my sister laugh at my childish jokes, would I remember the way she cried when they took me, apologizing again and again, as if it was her fault.

I’m just relieved they took me instead.

They dropped me now. I felt a tugging sensation and they pulled the bag off from over my head. I was in a field; it didn’t look familiar. But it had been a while since Glendale looked familiar. It had been years since I even stepped in these woods. And now look what happened. So, the rumors were true, these woods were evil now.

“It’s alright,” he tried to hide his face, he probably thought the black hood and robe hid him well. But it didn’t. He was young, barely out of college if even that. He was in over his head. Was this some sort of prank? “You’re gonna be alright,” he assured me.

“What’s going-

“Shh,” someone else silenced me. There were at least five of them, five men or maybe even women in dark robes.

The rumors around these woods have changed over the years. At first, they were haunted. Then, they were notorious burial grounds for the mob. We didn’t even have a mob in the state as far as I knew. Then people started going missing, bodies started turning up. And now what’s this? Some sort of cult?

“Do you know of these woods?” the same man who silenced me was speaking, he stood taller over the rest, his attention on the strange fire he was starting.

“I used to live here,” I don’t know why I admitted that. “I used to camp here all the time.”

He paused in his fire-making, gesturing at one of his followers to continue it before turning to me, “You’re truly blessed then.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“These woods are special,” he leaned down so he was at my eye-level now, he was old with a graying beard and insane eyes. “A God lives here. A god of darkness, of death.”

Oh boy.

“And you my dear,” he reached out to touch my face, holding my cheek, I recoiled immediately. “You will be our sacrifice. For if the God is content with you, our clan will flourish once more.”

Why do these things happen to good people? I came back here to help my sister, and what does the universe decide to throw my way? A fucking devil-worshipping cult. Please let this be some frat prank.

I sucked in a deep breath. Was I too calm? Perhaps. But the freaking out can come after, right now I have to deal with this. And it’s always easier to deal with things with a clear head.

“Well,” I looked down at my lap, harnessing all those useless tips my drama teachers had bestowed over the years. “If it’s for the greater good… I understand. I’m honoured. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Finally, a selfless soul. Cut her loose Gavin.”

And the younger man, the one who had a warped definition of ‘you’ll be fine’ got to work untying the ropes that bound my arms. Meanwhile I noticed the fire had been lit, someone was sprinkling some strange dust over it and chanting. Then something else caught the light, something silver that seemed to shine for a second. They were holding a knife in the flames, chanting over it as the blade heated.

You had to be kidding me.

“Um, are you sure just one soul is enough to uh, please the God?” I quickly started to think of other things to say. To buy myself some more time.

“Silence child,” the older man had his hand on my shoulder now, and I found myself thrusted onto my knees. Should I make a run for it? Can I outrun all these men in my stupid sandals?

He was handed the knife and was now holding it over me. There were robed men on either side, even if I stood up to run they’d grab me before I managed to get anywhere. I was running out of ideas. How do I talk my way out of this? Okay, deep breaths, not so quick though, okay stop breathing so much, shit I think I’m hyperventilating.

“He who rules the pines, he who takes life,” the madman was chanting now, his eyes set on the woods, “Grant us ours in exchange for this life.” I expected him to kill me right then, but he took my hand and pressed the blade into my palm. He didn’t cut it, but the heat seared my flesh, I shrieked in response, grabbing my hand to cradle it as soon as he let go. It stung, the skin red.

Then it happened.

The crazy thing. The night seemed to get darker, and a bit beyond the clearing, where the woods began again, I could see a figure. A tall figure, pale but dark, strange fog seemed to be rolling away from it, engulfing the clearing. Were they seeing what I was seeing?

Gavin seemed to whisper something to the older man, and he nodded vigorously before turning to me, “The hunt has commenced.” And just like that they all began to shuffle away, the fire continuing to dance dimly among the fog as they simply walked back towards the woods, away from the figure on the other side of the clearing. Was that it? What the hell? I cautiously climbed to my feet, my gaze switching back and forth between the cultists who paid me no mind and the distant figure that seemed to pay me too much mind.

I took a few steps backwards, and when they made no move to stop me, I turned 180 and bolted. If I had never left Glendale, perhaps I would still know my way around these woods. But I had left, and so I hoped running in this direction was the right one. No one seemed to be chasing me, my sandals awkwardly clicked and clacked as I dodged roots and uneven ground, looking for some sort of exit that didn’t seem to exist.

Then it happened.

By some miracle I tripped, my sandal twisted to the side and I fell over it. If I hadn’t, then surely the axe that flew right over me would have knocked my head off.

“You missed,” someone said.

I was on the ground again, and quickly scrambled onto my feet, one of my sandals had broken. Turning around, there were two men. It really was too dark to make out any distinguishing features, but I figured it was safe to assume they threw the axe. The axe that was now planted in one of the trees off to my side.

“It wouldn’t be as fun if it landed,” they were talking to one another, seeming to pay me no mind.

“You’ve got a point there,” one of them stepped closer now, still, he was too hard to distinguish. “I want this one. I’m running low on food.”

The other one said something more, however it was hard to hear anything over the sound of my heart. One of them turned to leave. What was going on? Was this also part of the crazed ritual those cultists had going? Was that axe real? I’m still waiting for someone to point out all the cameras and tell me this was a prank.

But instead, the figure that remained now took slow steps closer, as if he was mocking me, as if he was daring me to take a chance and try to run. But instead I just sat there stupidly, my nails digging into the dirt below, my eyes trained on the figure. I don’t know why but my limbs felt insanely heavy, I could barely think to move let alone try.

He crouched down so he was at eye level, and in the darkness, even with him so close I could barely see anything. Where his face should be was nothing but gray. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find his eyes, it was too dark to see them. He opened his mouth to speak and I could make out teeth and a tongue and the smell of sulfur and rotting meat.

I exhaled a deep breath.

“You stopped running,” he noted.

I blinked at him.

“Go on, I’m waiting,” he gestured for me to move.

I was still for a second more, and then I carefully started to stand. He mirrored my movements, and now he was towering above me as we stood.

“Now turn around.”

I did.

“And run.”

And once again I froze. It felt like I was dealing with a wild animal, that if I started to run, it would trigger him, set him off. Like a bear, or a tiger, or even a dog. If they see you run, they chase. If you act like prey, they’ll act like predators. So, don’t act like prey.

“You don’t have to do this,” I know it’s so cliché to say, but what else could anyone possibly say in this situation? “I don’t know who you are, you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone anything. If there’s some good in you, somewhere, anywhere… you can just point me to the nearest exit, and I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s real cute,” his voice was low and amused. “You know, a cult actually killed me too.”

Come again?

“There’s some irony in that,” he seemed to be talking more to himself.

His hands were on my shoulder all of a sudden, he gave me a push and I almost stumbled over my sandal again.

“There’s no good in me,” he assured me. “But I’ll tell you this much, I’m starving, and I like my dinner with a show. So. _Run._ ”

I kicked my sandal off, and he gave it a dismissing glance.

“Can I have a head start?”

“Oh, you really are cute,” I could hear him smile, “Five seconds.”

“You should close your eyes too,” I said, deciding to try my luck.

“No can do.”

Oh well.

I took in one more deep breath, and I ran. He started counting immediately, if he wanted a show, then I could give this sick fuck a show. I ran straight for the tree with the axe, and when he noticed, he stopped counting and took off after me. It didn’t matter, I don’t know what he was thinking. Idiot. I pulled the axe free and swung it around. Thank God it was dark, I don’t think my stomach would have handled the sight accompanying those sounds. The sound of the axe slashing through his face, of meat and skin tearing. I think I’m going to be sick.

He reacted as if someone had just backhanded him, cradling his face with one hand. He was clearly still alive. I should swing again. But it’s hard to kill something, to kill someone. I held the axe close to my chest, taking steps back. He seemed not to care; he was stalking towards me again.

“Please,” even with all the power, I was pleading with this man. “Just stop, I don’t want to kill you.”

“Do it,” he sounded as if he was the one threatening me. And then he lunged, and I was back on the ground again, the axe tumbling out of my grasp. He was on top of me, it happened so fast. I made an attempt to sit up, but his hand were around my throat in an instant, slamming my head back into the dirt. For a second, I couldn’t breathe, and he kept me there, letting in little gasps of air but never enough.

His face was inches from mine, yet it was still too dark to make anything out, I could feel the blood from his wound drip onto my cheeks. I can’t believe I was going to die like this. What an insane way to die. At the hands of an actual murderer. I thought it’d be a car accident, or some disease, or maybe even a wrong step down the stairs. But no, I died getting kidnapped by crazy cultists only to get murdered by some men in the woods.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I came back to Glendale to help my sister. Who was going to help her now? She’d be alone in this world now. But at least she’d be in this world. But… I wish she wasn’t. I can’t believe I was thinking this mere seconds before dying but… perhaps it would have been better if she was the one kidnapped. If they had taken her instead. I had my life together, I was going places, I was going to be someone- and she was in her fourth abusive relationship in Glendales trailer park.

What a horrible thing to think.

It’s kind of funny actually, I think the last thing she told me was that my horoscope said I was in for a bad week. Damn, maybe there was some truth to all that stuff. Can’t believe she had her way in the end. I smirked at that.

“Something funny?”

I couldn’t reply even if I wanted too, my vision was starting to fuzz, dark spots seemed to dance around in the already dark skyscape. And so, I gave in.


	2. Everyone Loves Games

Jack worked a flimsy toothpick between his teeth as he leered over his tools. He loved that smell, of stale coppery blood mingling with the spiced pine of the forest outside. That was why he kept his worktable next to the window. He had no idea what the view outside his window looked like. Well that wasn’t entirely true. He remembered forests; he went to college in one of those forest towns. But that was before; when he could still see things and take them for granted.

Now he smelt things. He could breathe in the scents of the world, listen to the rise and fall of the body laying unconscious on the floor behind him. But he could also feel things. Feel movements, feel heartbeats quicken, feel fear as it trickled down his victim’s cheeks. And these feelings were somehow better than sight. Unfortunately, not as pretty but still, effective, at least when it came to his line of work.

He accidentally twisted the toothpick too hard, feeling it painfully jab into his gums. He tasted the dark bitter flavour of his black blood. At least he had gotten that piece of flesh out of his teeth. And so, he flicked the toothpick into the ashes of the empty fireplace in his room. Looking back down at his recently cleaned, immaculate tools, he wondered if this was a job for the amputation saw or a simple scalpel.

Without glancing back at the girls stirring form, he got a sense of her weight, of her height, of the little feminine sounds she made as she awoke.

Scalpel it is.

“You’re gonna be late for school Emma,” the girl mumbled.

Jack now turned around and walked with surprising quietness to her side. He crouched down, close enough to taste the coolness of her breath.

“No, that’s my skirt… Well tell that God-awful boyfriend not to leave his pornos paused on the family TV… “

Jack didn’t realize he was smiling until he felt his blood dripping down his lip. Shaking the grin off, he wiped the blood away, cursing that toothpick one last time. He reached out and poked her in the chest rather harshly. He could have left her asleep for the process. If he was a gentler soul, he could have even given her some anesthesia.

But where was the fun in that?

Was he always this cruel? This sadistic? Was there a time, maybe before his violent transformation, a time where he would have shown small mercies?

He poked her again, more aggressive, jabbing his finger into her rib. A little more pressure and he would have left a dent.

“No, I’m not hungry… Okay maybe just a taquito, but not from that place by- mmm…”

Her eyes had opened entirely at this point. She shivered first. Her heartbeat quickened, and at the same time her breath hitched. Her nails dug into the old floorboards. When the panic passed – and for the record the panic itself was lackluster, he was hoping for screams or cries, but anyways – when the panic did pass, she began concentrating. Her brows had furrowed, he could hear her teeth grinding into themselves. What was she thinking about? Some clever escape plan he hoped. Something exciting. Something to give him a real kick.

“You’re still here? Well… that scar on your cheek… it um, it really suits you.”

This time he couldn’t help but grin. Stifling a deep chuckle, he brushed his fingers against that very scar. She had sliced his cheek open with Toby’s axe and here she was making light of it. What a fun little human. The sarcastic ones were rarer than the fighters. Usually he would get criers. But even the criers were enjoyable, he liked to experiment with just how loud he could get them. He turned the last girl he had here into a Broadway superstar.

“Are you going to tell me what beautiful eyes I have next?” he asked softly.

She shook her head and put her hand to her mouth. She was acting as if she was sick.

“Man, my subconscious is going wild,” she mumbled. Then she was staring at him again. “Gonna have to ask Emma what eyeless men symbolize. But wow…” she reached out to touch him. “I didn’t know I could have dreams so vivid. It’s like you’re actually real…” Then her finger grazed the fabric of his tattered sweatshirt, and realization slowly washed over her.

Surprisingly, she had yet to scream.

But Jack loved a challenge as much as the next man. He took her outstretched hand into his cold, dead ones and slowly, ever so slowly lifted it up to his face. He placed her finger on his lip, feeling her heart sink, her breathing had stopped entirely. He parted his lips and let his rough, black tongue run down her fingers, tasting that sweet, slightly damp flesh.

She tried to yank her hand away. The moisture in the air had changed, she was crying at last. She struggled to get away from him, but he held her hand right there, wanting her to know just how powerful he was comparatively. He could have bit down right then and there, really send the message home. But truth be told he hated chewing skin.

So, he let her go and she immediately leapt back against the wall. Once she had her bearings, she ran to the nearest and only door, trying to open it to no avail. Meanwhile Jack remained crouched on the floor, cupping his chin in his hand as he watched her do the same thing everyone did. She looked back at him, as if to make sure he wasn’t about to lunge. Convinced that she still had time, she began throwing her entire body into the door, desperate to tear it off its hinges.

How fun it would be if she managed to break it down. Then she would run once more, and he could hunt once more. Maybe next time he would leave the door unlocked.

She had her back against the door now, slightly tired as she continued to stare him down.

“What do you want?” she asked at last. Had the questioning phase begun? How boring. She was scanning the room; her gaze must have landed on the workbench because he heard her gulp. He expected a scream. “Is this some crazy organ stealing operation? Oh God, don’t tell me you’re one of those torture and murder killers.”

“Are there any other kinds of killers?” he asked, at last rising to his feet, wanting her to see just how big and scary he was.

“Well yes,” she replied. “I’d much rather it be a plain murderer. Maybe use a gun, something quick you know.”

“So, a torture and murder killers the worst kind then?”

She actually thought about it. “Well actually I could think of a few worst things.” She was blushing, he could feel it.

“That sounds interesting. Do tell.”

“I don’t want to give you any ideas.”

“Pity,” he mused, closing the distance between them now. He rolled his shoulders back, preparing for the work ahead. Hopefully, she was a squirmer.

She moved in tangent with him. The closer he got to the door, the further she moved across the room. They were practically circling one another. She was closer to his workbench now; he was closer to the door.

“Cannibal,” he said the word softly, listening intently to her breathing, waiting for it to sink in.

“What?” she whispered back.

“That’s what I am. That’s what this is. There will be organ rearranging, there will be torture, there will be murder. And maybe some surprises along the way. But I wouldn’t want to give you any ideas.”

He pushed the books off a piece of furniture, revealing that it was actually a slab on wheels. Slightly bloodstained but with a relatively clean lining on top of it. He liked to keep things relatively clean.

“Here, have a seat,” he patted the crumpled paper on top of the slab. “I’ll show you all my favourite toys.”

He knew what she was thinking, cornered between his work bench and the window. He wondered if she was going to grab a weapon or jump out of the cabin. He was hoping she would jump. He preferred chasing his deer rather than taking antlers to the face again. Speaking of which, the sooner he had something to eat, the sooner that pesky scar would heal.

He took another step forward, pulling the slab along with him, wanting so badly to scare her. Wanting so badly for her to jump over that edge. Come on. Do it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

I watched him and he watched me. I understood him, but luckily he didn’t understand me. He wanted to kill me, that much was obvious. But there was something else, something more. Something he wanted more than blood. And that was excitement.

Before I came back to Glendale, before I came back to take care of my tornado of a sister, before any of that I used to live up in the city. I was just wrapping up a degree, a professional career awaiting me as soon as I finished my internship. And what was it I studied? Criminal psychology.

And let me tell you something about thrill killers. Be as boring as you can be.

He just let me walk over here, he let me in range of his weapons, in range of an open window. Why lock the door and leave me all these options? He didn’t even tie my wrists. He wanted me to make this exciting. My inclination was to reach for the tools on the bench, to grit my teeth and jab them through his heart. But even if I could find the stomach to do that, why would he leave me the option if he didn’t have a plan?

No. Either of these options were wrong. I would only play into his hands. He would win if I chose the window or the weapon.

So what choice was there?

Looking at him rather desperately, I was all too aware that this thing was not a man. He was a monster. Gray, toned skin. A predatory build, tall, strong and imposing. Serrated teeth he loved to flash every second. Empty eyes, and I don’t mean that in the figurative sense. There were rips in his sweatshirt, they looked like the desperate clawing of human hands. Then there was that slab next to him, his hand tightly gripping the railing, his knuckles were going pale with anticipation. He was dying to let go of it and react to whatever decision I would make.

And now I had decided.

His lips pursed as I walked towards him, slow and steady steps. I kept my face blank, unsure if he could see it or not. I kept my hands at my side. And with the smallest of exhales, I sat myself down on the slab and looked up at him expectantly.

He didn’t say anything right away. He was tapping his worn boots on the floorboards, his lip curled into an unflattering scowl.

“I should have known,” he confessed. “You smiled when I choked you out. Now here you are so eager to please. Suicidal, are we?” He huffed, sulking over to his tools. He lifted up a saw with unexpected meticulousness and was back at my side in a second.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever,” he grumbled, putting a hand on my stomach, and forcing me to lay down. I tried not to tremble, trying to think, trying to force the gears of my mind to churn. “Do you think I’m the easy way out? You should have run; it could have been quick. Do you even know what I’m going to do to you?”

He was waiting for the fear to register. And believe me it was registering. But I was never one for crying and screaming. Although I had a feeling I would be crying and screaming once he had his way. I had to bore him. I had to be the most boring victim in the world.

“I’m going to tear a little gash right here,” he put his finger in the middle of my chest, a little lower where the breastbone met the ribs. “Then I’m going to reach inside and sink my teeth into the first thing I find…” He waited once more. “Well, aren’t you terrified?”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Do you think I’m kidding?” he groaned. “I hate the suicidal ones.”

There was resentment in his voice. Perhaps he was no longer in the mood. Perhaps he was going to call it quits now. Chuck that saw away and storm out. Leave me to plan an actual escape.

But instead, he actually put a hand on my stomach and lifted the saw up, holding it an inch above the fabric of my shirt. He was going to do it. He was actually going to do it. The second the blade touched the fabric was the second I scrambled up into a sitting position.

“Having second thoughts?” that excitement was creeping back into his voice. He forced me down again. This time I tried to resist and that only made him push harder, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Wait, wait,” I tried not to sound too desperate, but I couldn’t keep the act up any longer. The reality was sinking in. He wasn’t going to get bored and walk away. He was going to kill me either way.

I was trying to think again, trying to scheme. I opened my mouth to say something reasonable but all that came out was a choked scream. The serrated edges of the saw had torn through my shirt and breached my skin. Less than an inch of the saw had actually cut through, but God; that pain. That sharp, stinging dirty sensation of flesh tearing, my tendons snapped like an accordion, giving way to the blade. There were hot tears in my eyes yet again, I had one hand curled around his wrist, the other pressed up against his chest trying to push him away.

“Wait please,” I had cried the words out.

“Am I going too fast for you?” and there it was, that amusement, that excitement. I was feeding his ego, feeding his hunger for a fight. No predator likes to take a meal lying down, they’re built to hunt, to chase and to take pleasure in the game.

A game. Of course.

“Let’s play a game!” I choked the words out.

“A game?” he held the saw in place, but his attention had clearly shifted.

“Hide and seek,” it was the first thing that came to mind.

“Why would I wanna play that?”

“Afraid you won’t win?” I was struggling to keep my voice from shaking. I forced my eyes to his empty face, holding his nonexistent gaze with my own. Breathing was becoming difficult. “It’s just a game. It’ll be fun.”

There was that magic word. Fun. He seemed even more intrigued now.

“You give me seven days and I go hide. If you find me, you win. If you can’t find me in seven days, you lose, and I go free.”

He suddenly pulled the saw out of me and I cried out once more. My hands rushed to my stomach, pressing down on the wound as blood spurted between my fingers. I was shaking. I was sobbing. It was mostly from the pain.

He was shuffling along some cupboards and before I knew it, he had thrown a roll of bandages at me. I quickly unwound them, lifting my shirt up and holding the hem in my mouth, trying not to shake as much as I wrapped the wound.

He had sat down on his workbench across from the slab. He rested his feet on the wooden chair next to it, cupping his head thoughtfully in his hands, his empty gaze zeroed in on me. He hummed softly, putting the saw down on the bench.

“You get one day,” he said thoughtfully.

“At least five?” I urged.

“One.”

“How about three? It’ll make things interesting.”

“One. Twenty-four hours. 1440 minutes.”

I decided not to push my luck. Here I was hoping to grab my sister and get a plane out of the country. But in a quiet town like Glendale, flights were few and far between.

“We’ll have to establish some ground rules,” he continued.

I cut the bandage with my teeth and knotted it carefully before lowering my shirt. I began wiping the tears off my face, trying to look strong when I returned his gaze. “Okay. Ground rules…”

“No police,” he began. “I don’t want to make a spectacle.”

“Fine,” I lied.

“No leaving town.”

“But the forest counts as part of town,” I added.

He thought about it for a second. “Alright.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“When I win...,” he was on his feet now, so imposing as he walked towards the door. “When I find you and you see me, and you know you’re caught, and you know it’s all over. I want you to run from me.”

He turned the doorknob and there was a sharp, metallic snapping sound. It opened with a creak and he made a rather gentlemanly gesture for me to leave.

“Deal?” he asked as I slowly got to my feet.

I nodded, careful and cautious as I walked through the door and out into the autumn woods. He stopped me, gripping my arm and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to pull away and scream. I turned to look at him as he leaned down, his lips inches away from my ear as he whispered maliciously.

“Best of luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a pretty bad day and so I'm trying to bury myself into something I love to take the edge off.  
> I'm gonna get started on the next chapter immediately so you can expect it before the end of next week.  
> Love you all, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :3  
> Take care.


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